


Recrudescence

by ImmortalBlackbird



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Anxiety, Aromantic Character(s), Death, Disciplinary Committee - Freeform, Gender Issues, Genderfuck, Herbivores, I Tried, Kamikurosu, Kyouya doesn't give any fucks anymore, Kyouya just wants sleep, Multi, Not A Fix-It, References to Depression, Reincarnation, Suicide, gender? whats gender?, i write when im upset, reincarnated Hibari
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 06:28:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12163359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImmortalBlackbird/pseuds/ImmortalBlackbird
Summary: Did I have eyes? I must have if I could see that light. But everything else was blurry. I couldn’t see anything else. Just the light. I could hear. I could hear the words that weren’t words. The things that sounded like people. But couldn’t be people. At least not English-speaking people. Wait.Wait. No. It couldn’t be. Not English. Light. Shit. I was reborn in some fucking family. Again. I was fucking alive again. Motherfucking son of a bitch.Trigger warning- main character commits suicide at the beginning, depressed thoughts





	Recrudescence

A smile is just a mask. It hides you from the world. It protects you from the world. A cruel and tiring world. It makes you wonder if you are worth it. And most of the time you feel you aren’t. You feel that you aren’t worth the space that you exist in. That your family won’t miss you. That your friends won’t care. There are days that you feel as if you don’t matter. The world will keep spinning, continue revolving around the sun. The stars will continue to shine in the night sky. Rain will still fall, people will keep laughing, birds will keep singing.

I know. I know how it feels. As if your existence won’t affect the world you live in. Your life or death won’t create any problems. Your friends and family might miss you for a while, maybe even years. Decades. They’ll eventually get over it. There will be tears, looking for a reason. Looking for a cause to blame. _Why? Why did they do it?_ There will be pity. _Poor kid. Just another statistic._

Just another statistic. Just another of the thousands of people who did do it. Kill themselves, that is. Just another person who was riddled with anxiety. Depression. Just general fatigue with the world. _I’m not going to make a difference. I’m never going to leave an impact on the world._ Give it a few generations. Nieces and nephews might learn the story. _You mean Quinn? That was the one who killed themselves, right?_

They say that it only takes three generations to forget a person. By that, I guess they mean a regular person. Some people do get more attention than others. Washington. Hitler. Czar Nicholas the Second. Whatever. Those were people who got their names into history. What happened to them, you ask. What happened to end their legacy? Why did they stop doing whatever made them famous? That’s a good question, I say. That’s simple. They died. Their legacy ended, and now? Now they’re rotting.  
The only way to keep living is to leave behind an impression. Leave something for them to remember you by. Leave a _legacy_. What’s my legacy? What did I leave behind at the end of my short existence? Perhaps a memory of how I could never spell heirarchy? A shitload of pollution? A metric ton of carbon dioxide breathed out from my, soon-to-be useless, lungs? A few people who remember me as, _that kid. You know. With the glasses. The geeky one._

I won’t leave anything. People have no reason to remember my name. People have no clue who the hell I was. Who I used to be. People have no motive to even think of me. I’m invisible. I don’t want to be invisible. I want a legacy. I want to be seen. But that won’t happen. Call me a pessimist if you will. I don’t care anymore. I don’t want to be me anymore. I just want to do it before anyone gets home. Or should I make it look like an accident? Spare my family the horror of having to know that I meant for this to happen. Spare them the thoughts of _what if I had been there? Could I have stopped it? Would I have stopped it?_ Because they aren’t sure. They don’t know the answer to the question.

I’m scared. I don’t believe in an afterlife. To me this is it. This will be the end for me. I’ve thought about it before. But I’ve never actually considered seriously to attempt it. But then again, this won’t be an attempt. This will be final. Quinn Riley Rendon was soon to be no more. And I did it. I stepped off the stair. A rope around my neck. I close my eyes, awaiting death. My last touch, that of the rope. My last taste? I don’t remember. It felt like so long ago, but it was merely hours. My last smell was the cinnamon that I liked to bake with. And I see darkness surrounding me. A sickening crack is my last sound. I had taken my last breath.

I had taken my last breath. _Seen my last sight._ _Heardmylastsoundsmeltmylastscenttastedmylastfoodfeltmylasttouch_. Last breath. Last breath. Last feeling. Feeling. Pain. PAINPAINPAINPAINPAIN. Hurt. Pain. It hurt? It hurt. The light in front of me. It burnt my eyes. It hurt. Why did it hurt? I was dead? No. Not dead. Not dead. Why wasn’t I dead? Supposed to be dead. Supposed to die. Didn’t I die?

Heard words. I heard words. I couldn’t _understand_ the words. I could hear the words. Were they words? They sounded like what words sounded like. But they weren’t. At least they weren’t English words. American words. America. Country. Live. Life. Liberty. Pursuit of happiness. Constitution. Home. Live.

Was I living? I couldn’t tell. I didn’t know. Fear. I was fearful. No. I was scared. Scared of what would happen. No afterlife. Where was I? There was a light. A light that burnt my eyes. Like the light that they shine in your eyes at the doctor’s. Was I at the doctor’s? No. I was dead. Right? I had to have died. **_CRACK_**. The crack of my neck. I couldn’t have survived that. Couldn’t have survived. Had to die. Nothing. I was nothing. Life was worthless. Why. The question that started it all. Why. Why bother living life where no one would remember you. Why even bother if I would be forgotten? Why care for anyone? They would die or you would die and then one of you would be alone and forgottenandalonealonealone. I was alone when I died. I wonder if my cats would miss me. My parents, My siblings. Mom would get home first. Realize. I didn’t go to school that day. I couldn’t. I was dead. Ha. I was dead.

But the light. That persistent light. Shined in my eyes. Wait. Did I have eyes? I must have if I could see that light. But everything else was blurry. I couldn’t see anything else. Just the light. I could hear. I could hear the words that weren’t words. The things that sounded like people. But couldn’t be people. At least not English-speaking people. Wait.  
Wait. No. It couldn’t be. Not English. Light. Shit. I was reborn in some fucking family. Again. I was fucking alive again. Motherfucking son of a bitch.


End file.
